


Feel You

by Madmonarchy



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Resolved Sexual Tension, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-10-22 21:41:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10705686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madmonarchy/pseuds/Madmonarchy
Summary: Gabriel has something Amelie needs.





	Feel You

She’s bold and elegant. She fights like a dancer, all grace and long limbs. Blood drips off her fingers from punching someone hard enough in the face to break their nose. Widowmaker huffs and flicks her hand to get it off. The target was dead, these were just goons that didn’t know to quit when they were ahead. There were three left now, they surrounded her slowly. She almost looked bored.

One of them had a knife and he dashed at her. It was too easy. She grabbed him by the wrist that held the blade, wrenching it out of his hand and plunging it into his chest. She held him close as the light slipped from his eyes.

She turned to take on the other two attackers only to be met with two booms from shotguns and a spray of blood to her face. Widowmaker glared at Reaper as he stood before her. “I was handling it.”

“You were having fun and weren’t paying attention.” He kicked over a gun and slid to her feet. “Focus. And maybe I won’t have to intervene.”

She huffed and strode past him, pausing to look at him over her shoulder, “You worry too much.”

\-------

In the transport, they sit apart from each other. Reaper sits with his hands resting on his knees. With the mask, it’d be easy to think he was just staring at a point in space. Widowmaker knew, however, that he was watching her as she cleaned her gun. She smirked at him and reassembled the weapon with practiced ease. The black pits of his mask bore into her eyes when she finally looks up at him.

“See something you like?” She rises up, leaving the gun behind her and leans against the wall of the transport.

It’s a more of scoff than a laugh, but she hears it nonetheless. He leans back in his seat, crosses his arms over his chest. If she didn’t know better, she’d almost think he was appraising her. He gets up then, wraiths over to her so she doesn’t get a chance to move and materializes incredibly close. One of his gloved hands grab her jaw and presses her against the wall.

He murmurs, “Sometimes I wonder…”. His other hand braces itself on the side of her head. He tilts her chin upward.

“You wonder what, _Gabriel_?” She stares him down through the eye sockets of his mask.

The hand on her jaw slips to the base of her throat, applying pressure. He hates the way she says his name. His voice is a whisper, “Would you change to a deeper blue, if I choked that smile off your lips?”

Widowmaker grabs his hand with both of hers, pressing it harder against her neck. “Why don’t you find out?” This game they played was exciting to her. It was thrilling when she barely felt anything at all.

Reaper pauses, as though considering, before laughing in a way that sends goosebumps over her flesh. He drops his hand from her and steps back. He turns away from her, returning to his seat but she knows he’s no longer watching her. A glimmer of disappointment bubbles inside of her.

She glares and decides to ride in the cockpit for the rest of the way back to base.

\----

Back at base, Reaper leaves her to do the debriefing, as always. She’s bored out her mind during it and her thoughts keep wandering to the feeling his hand on her throat. It was warm, such a contrast to herself. She scratches idly at the spot during the meeting.

Once the meeting’s over and she leaves the room, she swears she sees a shadow escape around a corner. How sweet of him to wait for her. Still covered in blood and dirt, she goes after it. The shadow moves silently, always just out of her view. It slips out of her reach corner after corner.

She loses sight of him entirely after a while. She shrugs. He probably just wanted to taunt her. That’s fine, she’d be sure to return the fa-

Next thing she knows her back is flush against the wall. One of her hands is pinned above her and his claw is at her jaw again. She grins.

“You shouldn’t chase death.”

“Or what?” She laughs, light as a bell. “I’ll catch it?”

“It should scare you.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” Her voice drops, one of her legs slides up between his. “I’ve been a dead woman for years, my heart barely beats.”

He doesn’t say anything for a long moment, just holds her there, turning her face this way and that.  “You’re a mess.”

“Flirting with death will do that to you.” She teases him with her knee, pressing it to the inside of his thigh.

He growls a warning but doesn’t move away, only presses further into her, stealing her breath. He lets go of her jaw to grab her free hand and drag it up to join the one that’s already captured in his grip. His now freed hand drops to his side. “I don’t think you want to go there.”

She tilts her head away from him, looking at him from the corner of her eye. “Maybe not while I’m such a mess.” She tips forward and lightly presses a kiss to his mask.

“At all, Amelie.” He uses her name as a warning and she glares at him. That wasn’t who she was and he knew that well.

The knee pressing into his thigh now goes up to his crotch and his hips jerk back, not expecting it. “ _Amelie_ wouldn’t do that, would she?” She licks her lips, “Come now, _Gabriel_.” She says it to get a rise out him and it works, just not how she intends.

He pulls back and puts space between them. She feels a lot colder without him all over her. She wrings her wrists out and casts a cold look at him. The holes of his mask don’t give anything away. Widowmaker pushes past him, knowing this wasn’t going any further.

“It suits you.”

“What?”

His smoke is all around her suddenly and there’s a hand on her waist as she’s once again face to face with that bone white mask. “The mess.” He phases through her and for a moment she swears there’s the pressure of a mouth against hers. He’s gone in a blink.

She’s frozen there in the hallway for a moment. Her mouth presses into a thin line as though she were trying to recreate the feeling. Instead, there’s dried blood on her lips and its copper taste fills her mouth. Widow grimaces at the taste. She needs a wash.

She goes to her quarters and doesn’t catch sight of Reaper’s shadowy form again. In her room, she strips off the suit and unties her hair. Some of her hair is matted with blood and sticks to her scalp instead of cascading down her back as usual. She catches a glimpse of herself in the bathroom mirror. Messy, but as he said, it suits her.

The hot water of the shower is soothing. It rinses the crimson from her hair and into the drain. She hadn’t realized how tense she was until she felt her muscles relax. She didn’t understand was why she was so tense. It wasn’t the mission. That was simple. Killing was easy. She wasn’t any stranger to getting dirty either.

Widow tipped her head back, letting the water run over her face and neck. She hums at the feeling. The warmth on her neck makes her touch her hand to the base of her throat lightly.

She drops her hand. There’s no way he’s getting under her skin.

She shuts the water off. The water’s clear enough and she gets out. Outside the bathroom, she slips into comfortable clothes before leaving.

The common room is practically empty, save for a few extra agents here and there. There wasn’t much room for down time at Talon. With a steaming cup of coffee, she plops herself down on the couch and tries not to think of how the hot drink down her throat reminds her of a certain mercenary. Her peace and quiet is interrupted by a giggle.

She sighs, “Yes Sombra?”

The couch sinks beside her as Sombra uncloaks herself. “Got a thing for death?” She laughs.

Widowmaker raises a brow at her over her cup. “It’s rude to spy.”

Sombra shrugs, “Can’t help it sometimes. But, it looks like I’m not the only one who can’t control herself.” She waves her hand and brings up a still image. Widow squints at it before realizing it’s of herself and Reaper from the hallway.

“If you’re trying to blackmail me- “

“Ha!” Sombra laughs and snaps her fingers, getting rid of the photo. “Please, you don’t have anything I want.”

“Then what’s the point?”

The other woman nudges her friend with her foot, “The point is, I’m telling you to go for it.”

Widowmaker blinks and stares at Sombra for a moment. “What?”

“You two have been dancing around each other forever, it’s making me dizzy. You finally make a move, then he ghosts away and I find you sitting here by yourself.” Sombra rolls her eyes. “What’s it gonna take for you to go get what you want?’

“I- “

“You like him.”

It’s Widowmaker’s turn to laugh now. “You know that’s not possible.”

“You like the idea of sleeping with him then.” Widow bit her cheek at that. “Look, if I have to stew in the sexual tension between you two during one more mission, I’ll barf. I’m serious.”

Widowmaker takes a long sip of her coffee before responding, “I don’t need advice.”

Sombra snorts, “Believe me I know, ‘flirting with death will do that to you’,” she makes quotes in the air with her fingers, then, all sly, tilts her head back and narrows her eyes while smirking, “but, I can tell you where he is.”

Silence again for a minute, Widowmaker considers it. “Where?”

“Lurking around the balcony, east side.”

Widow pushes her drink into Sombra’s hand and leaves.

She knows it’s silly, chasing after him. For sex…of all things. How painfully dull of her. But he made her feel something. Something that burned, like the coffee. He got under her skin and she wanted him all over it. The rush of emotion he gave was something she sought after. It was almost addicting.

There’s no one on the balcony when once she arrives. No agents. No tall, dark, personifications of Death either. She leans on the railing and rests her cheek on her hand. He must’ve left by now. She could go back to Sombra but that would appear desperate and Sombra would never let Widowmaker live it down.

Then she feels a warmth down her back, she grins and straightens up. “You said I shouldn’t chase Death, but, what do I do if he chases me instead?” She turns and faces Gabriel, the mask cast put away now. His face is tinted gray under his tan, corpse-like but it’s kept together. She’d seen his face before, at it’s worse and best. This was a better day.

“You should run.” There’s a hint of amusement on his otherwise serious face. His head tilted, bits of smoke escaping his mouth, dressed casually but still with all the intimidation his usual attire carried around. He steps closer and rests a hand on the railing behind her. “Most people would.”

Widow touches his chest, brushes her hand upward until it reaches his face, “We’re far from most people, aren’t we?” She caresses his cheek lightly, wanting to memorize the texture of it before he hides it away again for days or weeks. She’d always hated that about him.

Gabriel laughs and pulls away. He leans over the railing and looks out into the distance. She’s frowning at him and she knows he sees it. He blows smokes rings into the air, shooting them through each before they disappear. It’d be a cool trick if he weren’t in control of it.

Widow sighs and stands next to him. Always so distant. Doesn’t he know that she needs this? She opens her mouth to speak when he starts talking.

“Why do you do this?”

She just stares at him. It wasn’t an entirely odd question. It just caught her off guard. “What do you mean?”

“This,” he gestures between the two of them without looking at her. “Flirting. You always instigate it. Thought you didn’t feel anything.”

“Really, I’m the flirt, last I checked, you were the one pushing me against the wall.” She teases to deflect the question.

“I’m trying to figure you out.” He straightens up and finally looks at her. “I wonder about you.” The tone in which he said was so different from the transport without all the bravado from his guise as Reaper.

“You wonder what?” She repeats herself. She smirks, “ _Gabriel_?” It was getting a little too serious for her and that wasn’t what she came here for.

There’s no change of emotion on his face, passive as ever. His hand instead comes up and brushes loose hair from her face before cupping the side of her side with calloused fingers. He moves close, “I hate the way you say my name.”

Widowmaker flinches but he holds her in place. “Why?”

The hand goes back to her hair, tucking strands behind her ear, “You sound like her, the way it rolls off your tongue.” There’s the feeling of a finger ghosting down her throat, his thumb presses into the hollow while the rest of his fingers rest on her collarbone. “I really do want choke that smile off your mouth when I hear it. Just because you sound like Amelie.”

She pushes his hand off her and lets it hover. “I’m not her.”

“I know that.” His hand drops.

Widow hums, “You didn’t answer me.” She was probably pushing it. But she came to him for something and wasn’t leaving without it. “What do you wonder?”

“If Amelie is still in there somewhere.” Smoke curls around the edges of him and she’s sure he’ll disappear if she doesn’t do something.

She touches him lightly on the arm, walking her fingers up and then laying it on his shoulder. “She isn’t. But maybe I can be better.”

He recoils from her. “You don’t feel anything.” Was Amelie better because she had emotions?

“ _Make_ me feel something then.”

She presses close to him, wrapping her arms around his neck. He could leave if he wants to. She wouldn’t be able to stop him. Gabriel’s completely still as she starts to drag her lips over his jaw. He sighs and she feels his hands on her hips. Widow nips at his skin, laughing under her breath.

He pushes her away, “I shouldn’t do this.”

“Why not?” She stops kissing him and her arms fall from around his neck.

Gabriel doesn’t meet her eyes, the smoke wisps off him, growing thicker as the edges of him fall away. “I can’t.” He’s gone before she can question him further.

She stalks back to her room, fuming the entire way there. The heat of frustration coiled inside of her. He always did this. Just when she got close to getting what she wanted, no, _needed_ , he wraiths away and leaves her cold.

That was the worst part, knowing that she needed this. To feel something. Even anger. It was worth it. There were times when being emotionless, finding joy in only murder got dull. Feeling nothing at all every other time was boring. But Reaper, or Gabriel, made her come alive. Widowmaker, not Amelie. He infuriated her and she loved it. Even when he constantly fled from her advances.

But it pissed her off.

Inside her room, she tied her hair up into her usual ponytail. Frustration wasn’t her favorite emotion, but it made her want to work so she grabbed her gun and went to the gun range.

\----

Three shots, three training bots down. She’d been at it for an hour at this point, shooting down the same targets in different scenarios. It became tedious but she didn’t feel like doing anything else. That familiar numbness creeped back into her ten minutes in and she let it. Widowmaker rolled her shoulders and easily bested her last score.

Her peace was ruined however when someone tapped her shoulder. She sighed and put the gun down, turning to see Sombra smiling.

“Guess it didn’t go so well.”

Widwmaker rolled her eyes. “I went for it, he ran away. I think I’m done running after a ghost.” That was most likely a lie but she wasn’t in the mood to think about him.

“Oh c’mon.” Sombra threw an arm around Widowmaker’s shoulders. “There’s something there between you two. I can feel like it.”

Widowmaker shrugged her off and started to leave. “What does it matter?”

Sombra chased her friend, “It matters because it’s the only time I ever see you alive.” That stops Widowmaker in her tracks. Sombra sighs. “Why don’t you try and get as close to happy as you can?”

Widowmaker laughs, bitter and harsh. “That won’t happen.”

She leaves Sombra behind in the training room, not interested in continuing the conversation. Reaper didn’t enter her mind the entire time she was in the range and the peace was welcome. Sombra had to come ruin it.

This day was more exhausting than it had any right to be.

\----

Widowmaker didn’t sleep much. She didn’t need to. Instead she laid in bed for hours, just staring at the ceiling.  She didn’t think about anything stressful, wasn’t over analyzing bits of her life, or anything overly complicated like that. It was just her and the darkness.

There was a knock at her door and she ignored it. It was a gentle knock, as though the other person didn’t want to wake her. Or they hoped she wouldn’t hear it. She couldn’t imagine anyone who’d come to her door this late at night. It had to be at least 1am.

The knock came again, twice. Twice again, she ignored it. She wondered briefly if they were just standing there, hoping she’d come out. Widowmaker was hardly one to disappoint though, so she got up, clad in only a shirt and her underwear, and opened the door.

On the other side, stood Gabriel. He looked like he was just about to leave and she had half a mind to let him. The frustration from earlier came back but then there was that need again. She sighed, stepped to the side to allow him in.

With the door shut behind them, she leaned against it. Widowmakaer looked him over as he stood in front of her. If her undress bothered him, he didn’t say anything.

“What are you doing here?”

“I don’t know, to apologize maybe.”

“Hm.”

He sat on the edge of her bed and she went and turned on her bedside lamp to give the room a dim glow.

“You’re not her.”

Widowmaker raked her fingers through her hair, “I’m not.”

She moved to him, taking a seat on his lap. One of her hands cupped his face and pulled him in for a kiss. “You didn’t come here for this.”

For once, she doesn’t see the smoke threatening to whisk him away. One of his hands rests on her back, the other teases the edge of her shirt. “I didn’t.” She feels him slide his hand up her shirt. She gasps at the feeling. “Why do you haunt me?” He asks, grazing his lips over her jaw.

 “Coming from the ghost.”

“Ha. You know what I mean.” He kisses her throat now. “You keep flirting with me, teasing me. _Taunting me_.” The hand on her back goes to her hair and pulls hard enough to expose more of her neck to him.  “Do you have feelings for me?”

She hisses. “I have feelings _from_ you.” She hums as the hand under her shirt moves lower, tugging at the hem of her underwear. “It’s been so long since I needed something.”

His hand dips down into her underwear and starts to rub at her slowly. “You need this?”

“I need you.” She grinds on his fingers and starts to pull on his shirt. “You said I shouldn’t chase death, but it makes me feel so alive.” She kisses him again, harsh and hungry, “Killing, fighting, _you_. All of it. I need it.”

He pulls away from her kiss and whispers, “Slow down.” His fingers slip out of her and she huffs in protest. He laughs, “So impatient.” He lays her down and straddles her. With a smirk, he sucks the fingers that were previously in her into his mouth to clean them off before pulling his shirt off.

She pulls a leg out from under him and places a foot on his chest before he come back down on her. “Wait.”

He pauses, “What’s wrong?”

Widowmakers leans up on her elbows to look at him. “Why did you change your mind?” Her foot falls from his chest, and she takes a moment to look at him. “You ran from me, every time I tried. You tell me wonder about me, you look at me, and you run. Just today you told me you can’t do this but here you are.” She sits up further and gets in his face. “You say I’m the tease.”

He laughs and kisses her slowly, holding her face between his hands. He nudges her back down, “I couldn’t do it before. Not even earlier today.” He pushes her shirt up to expose her stomach and he starts to kiss and mouth over the expanse of it. “You’re nothing like Amelie. But I kept seeing her.” She feels the pressure of his fingers through her underwear again. “Especially when you said my name.” He moves down and kisses the inside of her thigh. “I never looked at Amelie the way I look at you. I wouldn’t.” He bites her lightly as he hooks her panties with a finger to slip one inside her.

“Gabriel.” She moans.

“She never said my name like that.” He chuckles against her thigh and she briefly considers kicking him before he puts his warm mouth over her panties. She arcs into him. His tongue licks a wet patch on the already moist fabric. He grins up at her, “I’ve wanted this for a while but I kept stopping myself. Didn’t seem right.”

She gasps and her toes curl as he licks at her again. His fingers curved up into her. “But it seems right now?”

“Did a lot of thinking.” He pulls at the fabric of her panties with his teeth, grazing her enough to cause a pleasurable amount of pain. She curses in French. “Care if I rip this?,” he asks, plucking at her panties. Widow shakes her head ‘no’ and he tears the fabric away. His mouth torturously slow on her now, his eyes flicking up to see her reactions. Her hand flies to his head, nails scraping at his scalp to urge him to move faster. Instead he takes his mouth off, “I got tired of denying myself this. I needed it too.”

His fingers leave her and his head lowers back down so his tongue replaces them. He does wicked things to her. She moans, fingers gripping the sheets and legs trying to clench together as he holds them apart. His pace alternates between mercilessly fast to heavy and slow. That has haunted her forever and it’s better than she thought it’d be.

Her orgasm starts to build, a coiling in her belly. Her breathing gets heavy and her heels dig into the mattress. “Gabriel!” She curses again and he keeps her legs open as he licks her through her orgasm.

Gabriel sits up and watches her chest heave as she calms down from her orgasm. He grins, his lips still shiny from her. “I think I could get used to you saying my name like that.”

Widowmaker looks up at him, arches a brow. “Think this’ll happen again?” He shrugs in response and she laughs.

She sits up and pulls her shirt off. His hands are on her again, pulling her to him to kiss her. She presses her body against his. One of her hands snake down his chest to the neglected bulge in his pants. The heel of her palm rubs him and his hips buck involuntarily into her.

She bites his bottom lip before pulling away. “I think you’ve been waiting long enough.” She flicks the button to his pants open and unzips him, he sighs in relief. She kisses him and starts to stroke him through his underwear.

He growls and pulls her into his lap. Her hand pushes his underwear down to free him. His erection springs up to her crotch and she grinds on it. Gabriel moans and presses his mouth to hers in an open mouth kiss. She laughs against him and pulls away, leaving him to grunt in disapproval. He moves to go after her but she stops him, “Pants.”

He moves to the edge of the bed, sliding his pants and underwear off in one motion. She moves behind him, the fingers of her right hand dance up his back while the other slides around his waist, teasing his erection with gentle touches. Gabriel’s head tips back for a second before turning around and capturing her lips in another smothering kiss. He moves back on to the bed, all the while pushing her further back.

He rests on his calves and she’s moving to straddle him but he halts her with a hand on her waist. “Mm, turn around.” Widow opens her mouth to object but he interrupts, “Trust me.” She squints at him for a moment but does as she’s told, turning around and resting on her knees. He pulls her on to his lap and his cock slides against her. She moans the feeling. Widowmaker glances down to see the head of his dick between her thighs, rubbing against her.

Gabriel starts to bite and kiss her neck while one of her hands goes between her legs, rubbing at her pearl. She arches into his touch, still sensitive from her first orgasm. His other hand presses on the base of her throat, not quite choking but applying light pressure. She grips his thighs, fingers digging into the thick muscle beneath her. “ _Gabriel_ ,” She chants his name as he starts a steady pace of thrusts against her, his dick every now and then catching on the edge of her entrance before he corrects himself. His rough fingers continue rubbing against her clit and his arms tighten on her, keeping her from moving.

It's a tease and it’s practically painful how turned on she is. Her wetness covers his cock as it keeps sliding between her thighs. He’s doing this to taunt her, she realizes. His body is a solid mass behind her as he holds her against him, in complete control.

She grits her teeth as her second orgasm washes through her, squirming as much as she could. She feels Gabriel smile against her neck and licks a stripe up it as he continues to rub at her. Her body shakes and convulses on him, oversensitive as he keeps up the pressure, rubbing harder now. The hand on her throat goes to her hair now, pulling her ponytail roughly and forcing her to arch more. She grunts, a third, slightly less powerful orgasm pools out of her.

She breathes hard, “You k-keep going…I…” She couldn’t figure out where she was going with the thought.

He laughs, “Just making sure you get what you need before I do.”

She groans at the fingers still moving slowly against her, “You know what I need. Make me feel _you._ ”

He loses his grips on her a little to allow her to raise her hips. He finally slides into her and the hand in her hair goes back to her throat. His fingers keep up their work as he thrusts into her, the angle allowing him to hit her sweet spot again and again. Widowmaker squeezes her eyes shut, she was sweating from all the stimulation.

Gabriel picks up a hard and fast pace, almost punishing in its intensity. She can feel it building again in her, but she tries to hold it back this time. A fourth orgasm in so little time might drive her crazy. Instead she grinds down on him as much as she can, making him groan and thrust harder. She grits her teeth and one of her hands flew to the back of his head, her head turning to meet him for sloppy a kiss.

She feels Gabriel stutter in his movements, becoming more sporadic than rhythmic. He wasn’t going to last much longer. His hand finally stopped rubbing at her and was now just holding her in place. She hums, “C’mon Gabriel,” his name rolls on her tongue like silver, “feel me.” She grinds harder now that his hold is looser. Her free hand clutches his arm and she stares him in the arm, a smile tugging at her lips, “Take what you need from me.”

He curses into her neck and shudders. He orgasms and breathes heavily into her hair. His voice is a whisper, “Did you…?”

“Mm,” she caresses the side of his face and kisses him gently, “Yes, three times.”

Gabriel laughs and helps to guide her off of him. She lays down, eyes closed, basking in the glow. She can feel his eyes roaming over her, taking in everything. He shifts and hovers over her. Her eyes pop open, “Gabriel?”

“Three’s a pretty small number, isn’t it?” He smirks, all wicked and teasing.

He’s already moving down her body. Widowmaker realizes that Gabriel must really enjoy going down on her, or maybe just people in general. His tongue is slow and almost too much from the first touch. Her body was still reeling from the first three. He holds her hips down and licks at her slowly, cleaning her up and easing her into her last orgasm. It causes goosebumps to cover her and a gentle sigh to leave her lips.

She lies still. This was bliss, as close to happiness as she could get. He settles beside her, skimming a hand up her body to her cheek, turning her face to kiss her softly. Gabriel grins, “How do you feel?”

She stretches and rolls over to lay on her stomach, “Alive.”

He laughs and covers them with a blanket. “Remind me to thank Sombra later.”

She peeks at him, “Why?”

He plays with her hair, swirling the strands between him fingers. “After I left you on the balcony, she came after me. Called me an idiot, among a few other choice words. She’s part of why I finally accepted that you were, well, you.”

Widowmaker rested her face on her pillow and stared at him for a second before laughing into her palm. “She came after me too, twice. She told me I’d find you on the balcony, and then later in the firing range.”

“What’d she say?”

“That I should try to  be happy, get as close as I can.” Widow curls up against him, soaking in his warmth.

“Can you,” he asks, quietly, holding her to him, “be happy?”

She shakes her head, “No, and I’m fine with that."

**Author's Note:**

> Purely self indulgence. I've been working on this for forever and I'm so glad I can finally get it out here.


End file.
